


Kiss My A**

by Punk_in_Docs



Series: Along Came Benedict: The Ben and Libby Saga... [16]
Category: Actor RPF, Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Body Image, Body Positive, Body Worship, F/M, Fabulous Curvy Woman Sass, Fuck You Society, Girls Run The World, Inspiration, Inspirational Speeches, Kick Ass Libby, Middle Finger To The World, Sexy Confident Libby, Speeches, Women Being Awesome, big is beautiful, independent woman, strong woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5376971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk_in_Docs/pseuds/Punk_in_Docs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Ben/Libby Drama: A Little One Shot that's been stuck in my head for a wee while: After being ousted in the press, these two carry on their merry way with their loving arduous life, and some rather hot and heavy times ensue after Libby is asked to give a speech to a body positive organisation, as a curvy woman, promoting self confidence and love for ladies with a fuller figure.<br/>Little does Libby know, but she is not performing her speech to 150 people, but, as a matter of fact. 151. As one certain Mystery Gentleman sneaks in to watch from the back. In awe at his lover being the supernova of a woman she is. And afterwards? Why, he shows her how fully he himself, appreciates her figure in all it's numerous charms...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss My A**

 

 

 

 

Benedict smiled wryly as he watched the stage across the room from where he was hiding.

His collar folded up, head down as he hoped to sneak in unnoticed. He was _dying_ to see her, up there, performing the speech he knows she had been rehearsing for _weeks_ now. His eyes lit up when aforesaid someone, whom he knew very _intimately,_ swayed her sexy ass up a few steps and onto a large stage. Accompanied by the thundering clap of applause, the noise filled the rafters of the room in its shattering, deafening severity.

It subsided after she made her way across to the podium. Thanking politely the woman who had introduced her. Smiling that wide, perfect, Colgate ad worthy, sparkling smile to the room before her. She was wearing Valentino. He could tell. That immaculate white body con, capped sleeve dress that made her curves look angelic. And he simply fell in love all over again with the way he saw her gloriously shaped calves, the shape of which enhanced sexily by the height of her golden glittering heels. And those devil red soles that begged to be the only thing on her, when he stripped her bare to fuck her like a carnal beast.

The room fell into hush as she began to speak. Retro black glasses on. Red hair shining like a fire spun halo under the spotlights and the stark black backdrop behind her. She wasn't shy nor panicky as she had been fretting about to him, all evening, the night before. She was tall, unyielding, and impressive stood up there.

He suddenly smirked all the wider. He had fobbed her off with some spin about having to be at a press junket all day. But _stuff work._ He had already planned _weeks_ in advance to see her impassioned and strong, looking perfectly brilliant up on that stage. He folded his arms. Drinking her in from his position hiding in the shadows.

"Good evening ladies. And gentleman, if indeed there are any. Welcome all."

She smiled. Stood behind the podium. Looking as fine as ever there was a beautiful woman.

"First of all, I'd like to begin my speech by relaying my thanks to Body Positive. A wonderful, _wonderful,_ organisation. Who somehow decided to rock up at my humble little doorstep and declare that out of thousands of female authoresses. They decided they wanted the likes of me to come and ramble on at you all for ten minutes..."

This earned her a hearty wave of laughter to ripple across the audience. _Thank god_ , he remembered her worrying if no one laughed at her funny parts of the speech.

"...So. Body Positive. A _big_ thank you, from me, for that prestigious honour. "

She thanked. Swallowing. Looking down and adjusting her prompt cards in her hands. Hidden by the podium.

"So. Our bodies. They're wonderful things, _are they not?_ I hope you all join me in agreeing with this statement. Because. It's come to my attention That not all women, and men too, weigh in on this opinion. Let me inform you. That I speak from _personal_ experience on being abused and mocked for being the size that I am comfortable being."

Everyone in the room watched as she took off her glasses as she spoke, and stepped out from the behind the shield of the podium. Her ravishingly lovely body on full display to the room in the stark spotlight.

"You know, _hello_. this is _me_. This is who I am..."

She explained, gesturing in a sweep down her body. What his lover didn't notice, however, was that as she had now revealed herself to the room, unawares to her, via the screen behind her that jerked into life. It was a large digital bill board. She turned and caught a large scale view of herself, jumping in smiling horror, placing a hand over her heart. Smiling at the sight.

"Oh. _Oh god._ That's frightening. _Huh_. Wow. Did you steal it from Times Square or what? Actually. No. I want my money back. Body Positive. It's not big enough for my liking..."

She smiles. Again. This earned another laugh to rumble across the room. Due to her bubbly exuberance. And her finely formed wit.

"So yes. Scary. Anyway. I got distracted by a shiny thing... _Bad_ um..."

She stuttered, smiling before She continued. Gesturing to her body once more. Picking up where she left off.

"This is _me._ Ladies. _No_ Photoshop. _No_ edits. I'm 5"9. I don't mind telling you I am 74 kilos in weight as of this mornings scale reading. And I'll give it to you now. _Yes_. There is a _lot_ of me to look at. I'm not a _thin_ lady. I'm not without _shape_. I _know_ this. And I know this _well_."

She explained.

"..And to answer your other questions. _Yes_ , there is some form of scarily big underwear going on under this dress. I was aiming for the Bridget jones feel of it. So a Thank-you shout out also goes out to Helen fielding, my fellow authoress, for letting the _whole_ world know not every woman wears a thong 24/7."

Soon after followed another jolly bout of laughter all across the ladies. It even caused a smile to leer across his lips. He didn't care if she wore a thong, or a pair of her shabbiest body hugging, saggy,  and shabby old granny pants. Either way he'd slide them off as if they were the hottest pants in the world, to worship with his lips at what _heaven_ he knew lay between her legs. Her undergarments made _little_ impact upon how hard he would love her. He would _always_ love her in that way. 

"Yes. All men were severely disappointed to find this out. I know. Gentleman out there. I'm sorry to shatter the illusion. you have my sympathies."

She placed her hand on her heart in smiling empathy before she continued.

"Anyway. I fear I may have wandered off point somewhat. _Again_." She cleared her throat.

"As made clear by my comments. _No_. I am _not a thin_  woman. And the ugly truth of this, is that there seems to be no room in the modern world for those who are built like me. Even for those who are heavier than me. Or those who are slimmer than me, but all of whom still have shape. And that is disgraceful. It's sickening. It is something that _fucking_ gets my blood boiling when I think about it. It _really does_."

She began to use that passionate strong voice she reserved for telling people off, and ranting. He'd heard it enough times first hand to know such a thing. He could read his lover like a book.

"We have been conditioned to believe the heinous truth, that society will not like us for having, a large belly, stretch marks, saggy arms, cellulite, breasts that are big and flabby. Thighs and asses that wobble when we walk. As if society is shunning us as outcasts. Saying. _'Sorry love. You don't fit in our perfectly formed skinny shaped beige moulds of perfection.'_ You won't be accepted. You don't have skinny long legs that go on for miles, toned arms, abs that could split rocks, and a tummy flatter than an ironing board. And any woman that does. Should be horrified, and repulsed. Am I the only one here who thinks that's _fucking disgusting? Please._ Put your hands up if you agree with me."

She watches as the whole room put their hands in the air. _Not_ a moderate few. _Not_  a somewhat large majority. _Everyone_. Every woman, and some men even, he could see. _All of them_ raised their hands high in the air. Hanging on her words. Soaking them up. He felt left out. So he threw his in the air too, so as not to be the odd one out. And he happened to agree with her statement too. It was utter crap that a woman couldn't carry a little weight or shape. Especially when they were all expected to adhere to the skeletal undernourished look of Victoria's Secret models that the whole world seemed to crave for. 

"I'd just like to point out before I get the giant hook tugging me offstage, that Body positive said my speech was also **_not_** allowed to have swearing in it. But what can I say? I'm a rebel. And this is too important to me not to sware about. I deem it important. Anyone who is _offended_ by my cussing. Can come talk directly to me after. I'll buy you a drink as an apology."

She assured. But she was ranting now. So she pressed on through the appreciative laughter.

"I hate to think that there are women. Built like me. Who wake up each day, and go into the world, happy as they are, to receive hatred and abuse for the way they look. I can't help but point out that there are no plus size princesses in Disney. No. A charming prince does not ride off into the sunset with a curvy girl on his white horse. Nope. I've never seen it happen. Brad Pitt, as far as I know, doesn't star in Hollywood, cast opposite to fall in love with a plus size woman in films. It's like because we are larger that we don't exist. At all. That's the ugly truth too. People treat ' _fat_ ' as an ugly word. And it is. It is ugly. I've had it snarled at me enough times to know it can feel like a bullet ripping through you when people snap it at you." She ranted eloquently.

"Most of us, I hope, can agree that first world class cultures glare down their nose at fat, obese, full figured and plus size people. Almost as if we are perceived as second class citizens, not worthy of a mention. who should hate with a burning passion, the way we look. We're bombarded day and night with adverts screaming at the top of their lungs at us for slimming pills, diet shakes, weight watchers, weight loss campaigns, even surgeries and cosmetic enhancement. All this, along with the abuse we get on the street, whispered insults from perfect strangers, from snide comments some our family members may not mean to make. _But they do_. Sometimes. Even _we_ make the comments ourselves because our egos and confidence are _that_ wounded. We are bullied and beaten into believing that we are not beautiful the way we are. And I would like to put a stop to that. I really would. The next time someone snaps the word ' _fat bitch'_ at me. I won't slink away in shame. I will hold my chin high. I will meet those nasty eyes. And then I will Pinch an inch of my tummy fat. And smile. And remark. _'Why. There's just more of me to love'"_  She smirks sassily. 

Which earns her a few loud whoops of _'yeah'_ and fervour of clapping hands backing her up.

"...And before it gets hinted at. No. I am not saying that _all thin_ people are horrible to larger people. I'm not saying that at all. That's not what I'm getting at. And I'm not saying every skinny person should be ashamed of their body either. I'm not telling you. If you are thin, to go and out and down four Big Macs in one go just to be happy and accepted. I'm just trying to convey that a little shape or weight on someone is deemed as an ugly thing. And I do not think it should be. _Not. At. All._ I'm trying to spread the message that we should love whatever body shape we are gifted with. "

She urges. Ben smiled. There was something about the twitch of her lips on the big screen as she spoke, that made her look so kissable. And he'd lapped over that face countless times with his mouth. But this sight now made him want to do it a hundred thousand times more.

"I have made the idiotic mistake of googling my name once. And seeing all the negativity that exists because of a picture of me. At a premiere black tie event. My own event. In what I felt was a lovely dress. I've seen comments like _'does she know salad exists?'_ Or _'who ate all the pies'_ and my personal favourite was _'Mrs Jabba the hut'_ "

She nodded to the horrified gasps and dropped open mouths that booed in awe of such a horrid comment.

She raised her brows. Nodding. Meeting eyes in the crowds on the tables below her.

"I know right? I know. _Awful_..." She added.

She soldiered on. Ben smiled at knowing each woman in the room was passionately backing her to the hills with what she was inspiring them with.

"Luckily though. I brushed it off. I have a great support system behind me. They don't _know me_ personally. So I didn't _take it_ personally. You know what I did. I chuckled. And dived head first into a pizza because, _fuck them_. They were hiding behind anonymity on the internet. They had nothing better to do then to sit there and devote their time and hatred to me. That was _their_ problem. _Not mine_. I am a successful business woman who's made my passion my pay checque. So while they sat there and wasted their own time hating on me. I got on with my own important things. And I pitied their naïve bullying, because it was born out of an unforgiving society who can't accept that I look like _this..."_

She gestured with a sweep down her body once more.

 "...I have a few pounds on my hips, my tummy, and my thighs. And it is Not affecting them directly _In any way._ So _screw_ them."

Again. This earned her such a loud round of applause. She chuckled as she waited for it to finally die down.

"I'm. Um. Going to go out on a pretty pretentious limb here. And tell you a story. Some of you. May know who my confirmed man friend is at present..."

This was met with a few excited hoots and cheers from the back of the room. And Ben smiled so wide at that. His ears pricking up so much at him being mentioned. That he feared his smile, if continued, would make his cheeks ache.

She smiled at the fangirling response

"Oh. I'll take that as a yes. He's got some fans in. I'll. tell him you said 'Hi' Um..."

She picked herself up, starting off again.

"That being so. He is my best friend first. And my gentleman caller second. I can always rely on him for that. And the first few months of dating the outrageously famous and slimmer man. Was not all rainbows and smiles. I was _insecure_..."

Ben could not believe his ears. So much so his body swayed closer to better hear her. She had always been so fiery and strong. It almost hurt him to know she may have been hurt by the careless, cruel actions of others when they began to date. His arms were folded and his eyes are glued to his lover on stage. Listening to her speak all the while he got lost in his own thoughts.

"...Like. I kept thinking, Why _on earth_ would this charming, sexy assed. Nice smiled man ask me out? _Me?_ Mrs plump 5"9. Wobbly thighs 63 kilos. Why did _I_ get asked and not those glamazon amazingly stunning women who swan around him all day on film sets, In perfect make up and all their slim toned glory. Why did _they_ not get asked?

I remember I kept thinking to myself. _Was he doing it on a dare?_ _Did he just fancy trying it with a larger woman?_ What was his motive? And it _didn't_ stop. We'd go out to dinner. And sometimes I would think. _Is he smiling at me? Or because of the thin blonde waitress over my shoulder? Or the leggy brunette who just passed us in sexy heels?_ I was filled to the brim with insecurity and doubt that this Grecian god, attractive to society by most standards. - don't worry. I know. He's not _everyone's_ cup of tea. Michael Bublé. George Clooney. All worthy contenders the lot of them. Hot foxes - but I became _obsessed_ with the idea that he didn't _really_ like or even _love me_ for the way I looked. For my chubby thighs or my big tummy. How could he like me like this? Doubts were planted in my mind, my psyche from the very beginning. All because of our modern culture sneaking in. And destroying my confidence. And what's worse than that. Is that this was something _I_ considered absolutely _fine_. Because loving the way You look. Loving your body. Is seen nowadays as an oddity. As an act of rebellion almost.."

His smile returned. There was such passion and truth behind her words. It was gripping him, as tightly as it was for all the other 150 people listening to her. They were _all, hooked._

"And the stream of negativity was like fuel on a fire when we went out. To a party or. Even to his or my film premieres. I could feel the disapproval in looks people would shoot us. In muttering under their breath about why he - _the god like he_ \- was happily with someone of _my_ size. We weren't considered normal. It was like he had lost a bet to date the fat girl. Like some awful U.S Teen comedy film..."

His eyes were glued to her. _Only her. Always her_. He wanted to growl and shout that this was not true. But if he knew her _at all,_ her rebuff was coming to sink such flamboyant negativity.

"And I voiced this. To him. One day. After taking many weeks to pluck up my bravery. I was so taken aback to find he was _outraged_ , aghast, shocked. His reaction was palpable And he was generally _enraged_ by my feelings. He couldn't understand my negativity towards my own body. Because he saw nothing wrong with the way I looked. _He adored my body_. He almost became angry at me for not believing him, And I ignored him every time he told me so. I'd brush it off. _Oh. He's just lying. Oh he's just saying that to be nice. To make me feel better._ But. _No._ He did truly love all this. _God bless him_. And I _adored_ him for that. And his reaction was like a slap in the face to me. It was a wake up call. I will remember til my dying breath what he said. He said to me:

_'You don't have to be beautiful like them. You can be beautiful like you'"_

He smiled. Wide. He remembered saying that to her. _Vividly_. And it touched his heart to know she had taken it on so fervently.

"And that was so empowering for me. I realised I should not shrink away from my shape. This is the way I was built. And I am going to stop trying so hard to change that. I'm not going to hate myself anymore. I'm going to wear, what I like. Eat what I want. Do as I please with my body. Because it's _mine_. And no one else should have a say on how I rule my self. My body is not a democracy. I am not at home to your suggestions. Or your hatred for it. Go pick on your own body. Leave mine alone. My body is _my_ dictatorship. And one person _alone_ shall get to govern that. There will be no coup d'état. No rebel forces will overthrow it. It is _mine_ , _my empire_ , and I am in _charge_ of it, _forever_."

He chuckled. Stroking his hand across his lips as he felt pride and joy for her swell from his very heart. Right through his veins.

"And you know what? Being presented so clearly with this gorgeous man who didn't see my fat as a problem to overcome, but who saw me as a desirable, beautiful, caring, and independent woman, made me realize that I'd been spending far too much of my time concerned with the _petty_ perceptions of _others_ , and not nearly enough time concerned with _my own_ feelings about _my own body_."

She ranted on. He _loved_ her in rant mode. Be it about music, film, art she hated, or stupid journalists who slandered either him, or her, he loved when she got _all fired up_.

"While our validation shouldn't stem from the validation of others, sometimes, having someone shut down in a split second, any negative self-talk in your head is the exact kind of push you need to acknowledge just how absurd the negative self-talk is to begin with."

She ordered. And he felt everyone would march to obey it. Strictly.

"Because it is. It's mad. It's absurd. And disgusting. _I love my body. And I always should."_

She placed her hand down fiercely on the podium. She didn't need her cards now. This was all from the heart.

"And so, the more I allowed my confidence to grow, I banished from my humble little dictatorship, anyone. Who spoke badly about my size. I discovered that it was that confidence that made me feel sexy. It wasn't lingerie, jewellery, or high heels. Though they _do_ help put a sway in your step."

She smiled sexily at that. As did he. 

"It was the secure feeling of knowing that I am beautiful without those things on me. And that _I_ get to define what the word beautiful means to me. In my body. And I urge every single _one of you_ to do the same..."

She commanded. Pointing into the crowd. Ben saw women smile wide in recognition. He saw women dab their eyes with their napkins. He saw them nod. And dammit all, he wanted to cry, nod and beam in accordance with her words.

"And I'm not saying that we should all hunt for attractive men to receive such validation and confidence to our looks. If you have the supporting man by your side who squeezes you close and loves you for who you are In your body. Keep him. Marry him ladies. And if you don't. You don't _need a man_ to tell you, that the confidence begins when you.  ** _Y. O. U._**   Start believing for _yourself._ That confidence comes when you just put your middle finger up to our skinny celebrating society. And say. _This is me. World. Fucking take it. Or leave it._ Please remember, Girls, Confidence is not _'they will not like me'_ confidence is _'I will be more than fucking fine if they don't'"_

She grins. and the entire room grins with her. And Ben could sense her speech was coming to a happy, well rounded conclusion.

"So. In a society that profits from our self-doubt, choosing to love oneself is an act of mutiny. When people see my boyfriend and I supporting each other and showcasing our love, it challenges stereotypes. Sure, it makes certain people extremely uncomfortable. But they are not people who we think are worth caring about to our minds."

Women everywhere clapped and cheered. And damn the hiding at the back of the room, he cupped his hands around his mouth and cheered wildly along with the rest of the ladies.

"If you are not ashamed of your body, and if your partner is not ashamed of your body, then you shall find that those outsider opinions begin to grow _mute_. So please. Love your large thighs. Make peace with your wobbly tummies. Or large boobs or whatever. _Love your body._ It's _yours_. Its personal. To you. Your personal _privilege_. Treat it however you want it to be treated."

She spoke with caring tenderness now. And everyone was swept up in it.

"We need to stop listening to those who say it is not okay for us to be who we love, and who we are. Because... As stated earlier.

I am five nine. I _do weigh_  74 kilos. _Yes_ I have a _belly_. And _large_ thighs. My boobs _are_ flabby. And I have an ass and thighs that _wobble_ when I walk. But size doesn't _define nor limit_ my beauty. And if you don't like me. Or you have a _problem_ with that. And you approach me and rudely tell me that _you think I_ should change _my body_. I should Go on a diet. Loose weight. _Well._ I have _one_ simple message _for you.._."

She paused

The whole room was beguiled by her widening smile. Mad in love with her, and her inspiration.

"You can, _sincerely_ , kiss my beautifully _fat,_ _ass_."

She finished.

The noise the erupted across the hall, was _deafening._

The sounds of clapping, chairs scraping back as every lady stood to give her a standing ovation. He was helping fuel it too, clapping loud, smiling like a loon on day release for his woman. He felt like he should drop to the floor and kiss the very ground on which she trod. She was a goddess of a woman to him right then. She was too good for him. She smiled up on that platform. Bowing and nodding her thanks to the large audience. Blowing them all a kiss. As she walked off, crowded by women at the bottom of the steps, accepting hugs and kisses on cheeks and sincere thank-you's for finally pinning down how it was to be in the mindset of a full figured woman against the 21st century world.

She had made it perfectly wonderful to be a normal woman. With cellulite. Spotty skin. Flab and wobbly bits. And she had made everyone here, tonight, weight, shape, size, regardless, feel like they were worthy to be pre-raphaelite beauties, like Aphrodite, floating naked on a clamshell, and knowing every man found them irresistible, like a sexy siren beckoning men to them with a mere smile. She spoke with such passion and truth through her speech. That no body _dared_ doubt her.

Slowly. The mob of women die down, less if a crush as they all thank her, and flatter her. And eventually, he lingers until he can catch her eye. And she beams. Watching him weave through the tables to come to her. Ignoring the few elbows into ribs at all of them knowing, recognising him. There were hands over mouths, and nods to each other as he passed the numerous ladies by.

But as soon as his eyes catch her own. The world fades away into oblivion, white noise, as far as he is concerned, it may as well not even have existed at all. To him. He strides to his woman. And when he gets to her. His eyes lock with hers for a long second.

"You are a _superb liar_ , Cumberbatch. Press junket my ass..."

She grins like a siren. His eyes were hot and bright with warm love for her.

"You were, and you  _are, incredible,_ Turner..." He sighs.

Before he finds himself not able to bare it any longer, she slides forwards and indulges himself in a good, long, breath stealing, tummy flipping, yummy morsel, of a kiss. When he pulls back. She stumbles into him. Dazed by it. Ignoring the whispers around them, and the adoring pairs of many eyes glued to the attractive couple.

"Body Positivity. Ey? How's this for Body Positivity, Sexpot. When you and me get home, I'm going to worship you, and your body so _damn hard_. That the neighbours will know my name by tomorrow morning.."

He grins into her ear like the pure picture of temptation and lust that he was.

"Steady on, Fiend. You'll have me _trembling_ in my granny pants..." She winks.

" _No thong_?"

He asks with a wry tip of a cheeky wrinkled smile _that only he_ does.

"Unlike you. _I never_ lie." She winks.

"So the underwear you have on now..." He asks.

"Could be used as an emergency parachute should I find myself in need of jumping out of a plane anytime soon..."

She smiles in absolute honesty. He chuckles heartily at that. The deep throaty sound that was richer and darker than vodka flavoured bitter dark chocolate.

He adores her. She didn't need to wear tiny little thongs, or slutty lingerie to urge him on. All she had to do, as shown, was wear her shabby old elastic waisted pants with that confident sexy smile of hers, and he was _putty_ in her hands.

" _I adore you.."_

He chuckles into her ear. Slinging an arm across her waist and holding her close. Pressed to his body.

"Too damn right you do, batch..."

She beams. As he palms her bottom like the fiend she loved him as. Enclosed in the heaven tailored just for her, in his arms. Close to his chest.

"I love you more if you agree to keep the heels and glasses on ehen I get you naked.." He winks.

"And the shabby old granny pants?"

She asks. Just centimetres away from his gorgeous full lips again.

He smiled like a handsome rogue in all those fantasy novel 18th century bodice ripping reads.

" _Oh_.  _Especially_  the granny pants. _Sexpot_..."

He purred. Winking at her.

 

 

~

 

 

 

 


End file.
